Lapdog
by suspect tomatoes
Summary: He wouldn't have lasted a minute back then. Hell, he can barely make it now. Cena bashing fic. One-shot.


**A/N: This is for all you idiots that like Cena and think he's an actual wrestler. XwindowmakerX and I were talking about this, and she was the one who gave me inspiration to write it. Twenty bucks Cena fans that read this don't even know who the characters are.**

"Nice John Wayne impression, Cena," Randy scoffed, following the WWE championship slung over John's shoulder. He looked up at Cena's blank face. "I'll get it back someday."

John sighed and took off his hat, scratching his head with his pinkie. "Listen, Orton. I've been... _meanin_' to tell you this but..." He came closer. "You're never gettin' this back. _Ever_."

"That belt was _made_ for _my_ shoulder. It just looks like a piece of plastic on yours."

"You know, Orton, you go around here runnin' your mouth with nothin' to back it up. Maybe we should settle this right now and see who the _true_ champ is."

"You have _three moves_. Talk about _nothin' to back yourself up_."

"Come on, Orton, I want ya to punch me!" He tossed his hat away, the belt too, and whipped off his shirt. "Come on, Orton, right here! Please!"

Randy wrinkled his nose at him. "We're not in front of the camera, Cena."

"Punch me!" He tapped his temple, eyes shut tightly. "Come on, Orton, give me a pop _right here_!"

"Cena, I could take you out in a matter of seconds. Have you seen who I've competed against? I've RKO'd Jake the Snake, Taker, Mick _Foley_, Roddy Piper—"

"YADA YADA YADA, ORTON! That's all ya ever do just BLAH BLAH BLAH!"

Cody and Ted came up beside Randy, both frowning.

"What's he doing?" Ted asked.

Randy rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"I could take those guys on, too! I have what it takes. Cuz I... I NEVER GIVE UP! I fight, and I fight, and I FIGHT, Orton, and when it comes dooooown to it, I ALWAYS PREVAIL! CUZ I NEVER GIVE UP!"

"You mentioned that," Cody yawned.

"You wouldn't last ten _minutes_ in a ring with _any _of those guys." Randy pointed at him. "Mark my words, Cena. If you were in this business then, they would've chewed you up and _spit _you out."

"Just deal with it, Randy." John nodded solemnly, eyes dark. "You know why?"

Randy sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Why, Cena?"

"Because the CHAMP!" John held up his hands. "IS. HERE!"

"All I'm saying is, Cena, you wouldn't last a minute with the big guys. You got a push like you do today back then, they would've ripped you apart. They actually _knew_ what they were doing."

"My time is up, my time is now!" John picked up his stuff and waved his hand in front of his face. "You can't see me! MY TIME IS NOW!"

Legacy just looked at each other as he put his hat back on and started down the hall.

"DUN DUNDUN DUUUUUN. DUN DUNDUN DUUUUN!" He did the tongue trill and headed into the locker room.

"Do you ever wonder why Vince likes him?" Cody asked, glancing up at Randy.

Randy shrugged. "Guess he gives good head."

* * *

Cena came out of the showers in a cloud of steam, rubbing a towel over his head. But he looked back and paused, then went back into the smoke.

"DUNNNNNN. DUNNNNNN. DUNNNNNN. DUNNNNNNN. DUNNNNNNN. DUNNNNNN. DUNNNNNNN. DUNNNNN"—he rolled his tongue loudly again then burst through the steam—"A BOOGA!!! DUN DUNDUN DUUUUUN! DUN DUNDUN DUUUUN!"

He danced over to his locker and put on his new orange and blue shirt. "My time is up, my time is now!" He waved his hand in front of his face. "You can't see me, my time is now!"

He kept whistling as he pulled his shorts out, admiring the amazing art that was on the back pockets. He nodded. "Santino's right—they really _do_ look like hamburgers."

He packed up all his stuff, including the belt, and headed for the door, ready to sing his way down the hall, out the door, and to his car, where he could actually blast his theme song on the radio.

As he was walking down the hallway, he noticed some posters that weren't hung up when he was there before.

He stopped to admire one. "HA! Raw is war. That's funny. Cuz war is raw backwards."

Vince McMahon strutted past him, and Cena stopped him, motioning to the poster. "Sir! Is this some sort of new gimmick that we're doing?"

Vince wrenched his arm away. "Who the hell are you? Get away from me, I have shit to do."

Cena tapped his lips, eyes wide. He waved after him. "Like the hair color!"

When he turned back around, he bumped into a beastly man. "Oh, excuse me, sir! Didn't see ya there." But then his eyes settled on the men with him, and he frowned. "Edge? Christian?"

Edge scoffed and looked at Christian, throwing his thumb at Cena. "Who's _this_ bozo?"

The big dude pushed Cena out of the way. "Step away, kid, we got a match."

"Edge, what are you guys doing here?"

"The better question is, what are _you _doing here," the big guy snarled, grabbing Cena by the shirt. "Fans aren't allowed backstage, especially adult ones. How'd you get back here?"

"Gangrel, forget it, we gotta get out there."

This Gangrel fellow looked back at Edge and Christian, nodding. "Yeah. Don't let me catch you back here again, kid, I'll knock you on your ass."

Cena blinked at him as he walked away. "Well, he was rude."

Just then, another huge dude came up with another guy. The bigger one bumped into Cena, and Cena hit the wall with the strength of it.

"Sorry, kid," he grumbled.

"I'm not a kid!" Cena stamped his foot. "I'm the WWE Champion!"

The smaller one stopped and turned around, smiling. "Look it, Bossman, we got a future wrestler someday."

This _Bossman _smirked slightly at Cena. "How old are you?"

"I'm thirty-two."

The other one looked like he was holding back his smile. "Oh, wow."

"Well, kid, good for you. Good thing you got goals. But it's WWF."

John laughed. "Excuse me, but I'm the WWE Champion. I think I know the name of the own company I work for."

Bossman looked down at his friend, sighing. "Another crazy, Shamrock."

"Look, maybe you should just go home," Shamrock said, patting Cena's shoulder.

"Well, I've been _trying _to, but there are some very rude people here all of a sudden!"

Bossman scoffed. "Welcome to the business, kid."

"Hey, watch it, buddy." A bald guy pushed through them, wearing jean shorts and a black t-shirt. He was holding three beers in his hands. "Gotta make sure I have enough for my big win tonight."

Shamrock and Bossman tensed up. "You think you're gonna hurt Vince?"

"I plan on whoopin' his ass!"

John clucked his tongue. "There's no need for that kind of language."

The bald guy stopped and kinda smiled. "Who the hell are you?"

"Why, I'm the WWE champion. John Cena."

"John who?"

"John Cena. The champ." John smiled. "You know. Dun dundun duuuun—"

"Whatever, kid, have fun."

"Why isn't anyone here any fun! I don't like this."

"Then go _home_. This is for the big boys."

"You know, I'm a great wrestler."

The bald guy laughed, then put his beer down and turned back around. "Are you?"

"Yeah. I'm the champ."

"All right, then. Hit me."

John blinked. "Oh, well, I—"

"Come on, kid, if you're such a hot ticket, see if you can beat me."

"How's it goin', Austin?"

Austin looked at the guy addressing him, nodding. "Not too bad, Chris. Just waiting for this kid to punch me."

John's eyes bugged out. "_Jericho_?"

"That's my name." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What's going on here?"

"This kid thinks he's a wrestler." Austin scoffed. "Wouldn't last two minutes in the ring, guaranteed."

"I wouldn't provoke him, man. I mean, he looks crazy."

"I just want to see what he's made of." He turned back to Cena. "Come on, now. Hit me."

"Well, you see..." Cena put his stuff down carefully. "I kinda need the crowd to pump me up. Because most of my moves are based on fan reaction."

Austin laughed loudly. "Right, kid."

"I mostly talk. But I have to do that in front of a crowd, too."

"Hogan fan," Jericho nodded.

Austin rolled his eyes. "Come on, punk. Just hit me. Once."

"I'm not Punk, I'm Cena."

"JUST HIT ME!"

John grumbled slightly, then bopped his fist against Austin's chest.

Austin laughed just a bit, then turned to Jericho and laughed some more, and then the last thing Cena saw before everything went black was his fist coming straight at his face.

* * *

"Cena. Wake up."

"Gnhgh..."

"Come on, ya jackass, get _up_."

"GAH!" Cena reared up and looked around, finding himself on the floor of the bathroom. He still had a towel around his waist, but Legacy was standing around him, frowning down. "Where I am?"

"You're in the locker room, idiot."

"I... I had a dream. Edge was there... and Christian... and some... Gangly... Gangrel? And... Jericho was there. And some boss man... and a three-leaved clover... and..."

"He's rambling." Ted rolled his eyes. "Take him to the hospital."

Randy groaned angrily and grabbed Cena's neck. "Fucking lightweight. Come on, asshole, stand up. We're going to the hospital."

"No, I'm fine! But I was there and this Austin guy wanted me to hit me... and no one knew what the WWE was, or who _I_ was—"

"Must've felt like your whole world came crashing down, huh, Cena?"

"And then he wanted me to hit him, so I did, and then he punched me and... I... woke up. Here."

Cody laughed. "He went back in time."

"To the Attitude Era." Randy nodded. "Yeah. So, Cena. Did you last very long?"

"Well, I mean, the guy completely knocked me out." Cena held his head. "Jeez. How'd I get in here?"

"Security tape showed that you came out of the showers, then went back in, then jumped out again. Guess you didn't see the bar of soap that you slipped on."

"So... none of that happened?"

"It was a dream, Cena."

"Oh." Cena held his head again. "So, Randy. I'm in the mood now, all because of that dream. When do you wanna fight me?"

"I don't need to anymore."

Cena frowned. "Why not?"

"You lost to a bar of soap. I don't need any more proof than that."

**A/N: Review this if you knew who any of those guys were aside from Edge, Christian, Jericho and Stone Cold. OH, and review it if you wanna flame me. Just like Randy, I have all the proof I need that Cena doesn't know how to wrestle. REVIEW.**


End file.
